


Broken Chords and Unnamed Cries

by zombiejosette



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiejosette/pseuds/zombiejosette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d wanted roots and a home and a place of belonging. Susan knows now that it isn’t here and it never was; it was something that she’d had all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Chords and Unnamed Cries

The key to the TARDIS is right where she left it. Somehow, after years and years, it's still there beside the brick wall, though covered in bottles and metal and grass and dirt. It's weathered, damp and rusty, and the cord has gone dark and thin, but Susan knows it on sight, and it feels familiar and safe in her hand when she digs to grab it. She clutches it to her chest and breathes a deep sigh of relief. To find it there was a wonder in itself, a small miracle. Susan lives in a world where those are few and far between.

No regrets, no tears, he had told her. She remembers his voice as clear as if the ship were still here, remembers his words as he let her go. No regrets and no tears, but Susan has them both as she kneels in the dirt clutching the key. She had them that very day, in all her uncertainty and hesitation. She'd taken David's hand when she had nowhere else to go. And rebuilding a planet was an admirable cause, a great one - she can't find the words to describe her pride at being a part of it, but it's over. Their part of it is. And Susan isn't used to waiting, not when she's been able to jump into a little blue box and fly off wherever the stars took her.

David waits.

Patience isn't just anyone's virtue, it's David's. David does what needs to be done, then rests, then watches the fruits of his work. And he's satisfied with that. Satisfied not knowing what else is out there, satisfied staying in their little house and helping their little neighbors, aiding their little community.

David scolds her sometimes, reminds her that her place is beside him when she gets that wistful, antsy look. That wanderlust. Grandfather was never like that. He'd smile that knowing smile and type in numbers when she sulked. He'd check the gauges and open the doors and let her run rampant, let her scream when she was frightened, force her away from keeping her mind idle.

David thinks an idle mind is relaxing, than an idle mind is a free one, that stress and nerves only eat away at you and kill you slowly. Susan knows that stress and adrenaline make the mind work faster, make people capable of doing the impossible.

She'd wanted roots and a home and a place of belonging. Susan knows now that it isn't here and it never was; it was something that she'd had all along.

The tears clear from her eyes as Susan looks up to the sky, to the stars. It's a clear night, the first one in a while, and she can see so many of them. They dot the sky like tears in dark fabric. For a moment, she feels light, she feels hopeful, but she knows she's seen so much more. As it always does, she thinks of her grandfather. Is he still old and sly, stubbornly leaning over the controls? Would she even recognize him?

She would, she decides. There was an aura about him that was impossible to mistake. He _will_ come for her. Susan knows it. Susan hopes. 

Because he promised.


End file.
